


Same Stars

by pixie_rings



Series: Shallura Week 2016 [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Smut, well... communicator sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro is lonely on a solo mission, but Allura, it turns out, thinks of everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Stars

**Author's Note:**

> August 31st - Distance
> 
> I bring more sin for you, thirsty ones.
> 
> Now with amazing [fanart](http://vvorlock.tumblr.com/post/149907818362/for-materassassino-the-person-who-got-me-to) by my buddy [Vvorlock](http://vvorlock.tumblr.com/) who is the BEST

__

At twenty-five, he should definitely know better. It appears he actually doesn't.

A week ago, when he'd flown off to another planet for some small diplomatic mission, he hadn't thought he would have ended up missing her so much. The room they'd given him was nice, the negotiations were amicable and there were, thankfully, no signs of any Galra lurking in the shadows or even petty squabbling and backstabbing within the government itself. But that didn't mean that the mission was _easy_.

It felt like he'd left half of himself back on the Castle of Lions.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room, arms behind his head and thoughts a wormhole away. He sighs, imagines how warm she'd feel beside him, how her voice would soothe him. Sleep is far more elusive, his mind a thousand times more troubled, than when she's there.

A beeping drags him out of his own mind. He sits up, confused. It seems to be coming from his armour.

He digs in the pocket and pulls out a communicator, slimmer than their usual ones and the same crystalline purple colour as Allura's earrings. He raises his eyebrows, and it keeps beeping at him.

He sits back on the bed and accepts the communication.

 _“Oh,_ finally _,”_ breathes a familiar voice that makes his heart quake, _“I thought you were_ never _going to answer.”_

“Sorry,” he says, laying back on his bed, the communicator by his ear. He'd missed her voice.

 _“It's fine,”_ she says. _“I_ did _try to resist calling, but I...”_ He can almost hear her turning red. _“I missed you.”_

“I missed you too,” he says. “So much.” He chuckles. “If I'd known that communicator was there, I'd have called forever ago.”

Her gentle laughter makes his heart skip, then speed up. She sounds so close, like he could reach out and pull her against him, breathe in the scent of her hair, slip a hand round her waist.

 _“At least I try to maintain some sense of professionalism,”_ she says primly.

“Ah, Princess, you know I've got it bad,” he says, and while his tone may be light and humorous, he means it all. The line is quiet for a moment.

 _“You do know how to make me blush, don't you?”_ she mumbles, and he loses himself in imagining her face, cheeks red, the slight frown between her eyebrows she always gets when she's embarrassed. He wonders where she is right now. Is she in bed? Was she lying there, feeling alone, needing to hear his voice as much as he needed to hear hers?

A sneaky thought worms its way between the other, decidedly more innocent ones. Is she wearing her nightgown? Or... something else?

He quickly pushes that line of thought away. He's not a teenager anymore, he should be able to control himself better. He's been in relationships before, but they've never seemed to envelop his entire being like this before. It's a little overwhelming. He thinks about her a lot, all the time, in so many different ways.

“I try,” he says, and it comes out a lot more suggestive than he'd intended. _Shit_. She giggles.

 _“I see. What else would you try, then, my Paladin?”_ Her voice is low, enticing, it melts through him like a hot knife through butter. He lets out a huff of laughter, making himself more comfortable, one arm behind his head.

“A kiss, definitely,” he replies, keeping his tone light. He still isn't entirely sure where this might go, but he hopes it'll head in the direction he wants.

God, _phone sex_ , like he's seventeen and still has a curfew and too many minutes. The thought almost makes him mortally embarrassed.

_“Hmm... wait a moment.”_

He hears a rustle, mostly likely of bedclothes, and Allura say something in Altean, though not to him. It doesn't take her long to return though.

“What was that about?” he asks, sincerely curious.

 _“Oh, er... I put out the mice,”_ she explains, sounding embarrassed. He sniggers like he's younger than he actually is, but at least now he knows exactly where this is heading.

“The line secure?”

 _“Mm-hm,”_ she answers. _“I made certain that this communicator only connects to my earrings.”_

His eyes widen slightly as he realises she'd planned this from the beginning. He feels a little sheepish for not realising it, and also definitely appreciative of her forethought.

 _“Now,”_ she continues. _“Where were we?”_

“I think I was trying for a kiss,” he says wryly, and she hums.

 _“I do like those,”_ she admits. _“What... what are you wearing?”_ She sounds a little timid at that, as if she's slightly ashamed. He looks down at himself, grins wickedly to no one at all.

“Just my boxers,” he says, and he likes the appreciative noise she makes.

 _“I like the sound of that,”_ she says. He hears more rustling, and he imagines her settling down, maybe with her arm over her head, thighs rubbing together in anticipation. The mental image goes right to his cock, hardening him quick like he's ten years younger.

“What about you?” he asks.

_“Oh? Well, just... you know your nightclothes?”_

He makes an affirmative noise.

 _“Just... just the top part,”_ she says softly. _“I missed you, so I... wore it. It smells like you, it's almost like you're here.”_

It's amazing how those words make his chest tight and his cock hard at the same time. He can see her, in his mind's eye, she's worn his pyjama shirt before. He remembers how it slips off her shoulder, how it skims the tops of her thighs, the thrill having her in his clothes gives him. He bites down on his knuckle to stifle a groan.

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs. “You always look so good like that.” He licks his lips. “But you look even better naked.”

Her breath hitches. They're getting somewhere, now, and he likes this somewhere.

 _“Is that how you'd want me?”_ she asks, her voice soft, enticing, slightly breathless.

“God, yeah.” He closes his eyes, his mind easily supplying the memory of her, standing out beautifully on the white sheets of his bunk, eyes hot and beckoning him closer.

 _“Tell me what you'd do to me,”_ she purrs. She orders so silkily, he always finds himself obeying, and he's surprised at how easily the words come.

“Kiss you again, definitely,” he says. “You always get so insistent when we kiss, I love it. Then I'd go lower, taste your skin, finally get my hands on you properly...” He pauses. “Have I ever told you how much I love your boobs?” he says wistfully. He can picture them vividly, because they're works of art, soft and perfectly held in each hand, her nipples dark, and he loves teasing them with his tongue, his fingers, until they're hard and she's gasping.

She giggles, but it's low and husky and dark and it shoots down his spine right to his cock. _“I'm almost certain you have,”_ she says, barely above a breathless whisper.

“Imagine I'm squeezing them, sucking your nipple, rolling the other between my fingers...”

She gasps, and a sudden thought takes him.

“A-are you...?”

 _“Yes,”_ she breathes. His eyes slide closed, he bites his lip, lost in the image of his shirt hitched up and her fingers on her own breasts, face flushed at her own touch. He shoves his boxers down almost desperately, freeing his cock, groaning gently when he circles the base with thumb and forefinger.

“I... I'd keep going, lower...” It's not hard to find the words, it's just hard to get his voice to work. “Part your legs. God, you'd be so wet.” He can see her, smell her, his memory apparently excellent when it comes to things he loves, silver curls and sweet folds he longs to bury his face in.

She moans in his ear, and it's like his mind can't decide which fantasy to go with: her in his memory, and all the things he'd do to her, or her in the now, her hand trailing down her stomach, slick from what he's saying.

 _“I'd... push you down on me,”_ she gasps, and that makes him groan. His hand slides up himself, he thumbs the tip, twists, smearing precome across his palm to make it easier.

“My tongue in you, on your clit. Oh, I love how you taste,” he groans. “You taste _so_ good.” He can hear her, hear her whimpering, knows she's slipped her hand between her legs. He imagines her fingers on her clit, sliding inside her, and his hand goes quicker. “I'd eat you out until you're screaming with it.”

She's moaning in earnest now, right in his hear, the most intoxicating sound he knows. His brain is fuzzy, lost in the sound of her.

 _“Oh, Shiro, I wouldn't be done with you yet,”_ she says. Her tone is thick with promise, and that makes his heart catch in his throat and his pulse quicken.

 _“You'd be –_ ah _– so hard for me, wouldn't you? So hot and thick in my hand...”_

He bites his lip to stifle his groan. He'd expected to be the one doing all the talking. He's not, and his cock jerks against his fingers at the sound of her voice, her words, sultry, hungry.

 _“Imagine me, straddling you, sinking down on you, guiding you into me,”_ she moans. _“Oh, my love, I'd take you in with so much joy...”_

“Oh _God-_ ” He can barely breathe. He can hear the sound of his hand on his cock, obscene, but not as much as her words. If she were there, she'd be riding him within an inch of his life, grinding down on him, using him as she liked. She'd press his hands to her breasts, head tossed back, her hair billowing around her, skin slick from exertion. He'd see himself disappearing inside her, feel her around him, exquisite heat.

 _“I love having you in me so much,”_ she breathes. _“I love how you fill me, how deep you go. You drive me mad. Oh, Shiro...”_

“You'd be so tight around me,” he groans, slurring like a drunken man. “You're so hot, so good. Allura...” He's so close, so close, the pleasure tight in his gut, mounting in him, ready to burst.

_“Shiro-!”_

She lets out a raw, beautiful hybrid of a moan and a scream and he can see her, arching off the bed, eyes closed, ecstasy on her face, her fingers deep inside her as she clenches and her thumb on her clit, her legs trembling. That's enough to make him come, shooting over his own stomach with a broken cry of her name, hips bucking.

It takes a moment for his brain to reboot, for his breathing to slow to a manageable pace, for his heart to stop pounding like a drum. He hears her sigh, deep with satisfaction, and he allows a smile to spread across his face.

“You ok?” he croaks. She hums, it skips with mirth. He knows how she looks now: heavy-lidded, eyes glowing, hair spread around her in disarray.

 _“Yes,”_ she murmurs. _“I take it you are all right as well?”_

“You know it,” he replies, even though his arms suddenly feel desperately, painfully empty. If they were sharing the same bed, he could just pull her close, press kisses to every inch of her, share the afterglow. Alone, the afterglow is barely a dying firefly, he thinks unhappily.

“I really do wish you were here,” he says. “Or I was there.”

_“So do I. Sleeping alone is awful.”_

There's a moment of silence, just shared breathing. If he closes his eyes again, it's like she's right there, next to him, warm and so easy to get lost in. But she's not. His fist clenches and he sighs.

“I'll be back soon,” he says. “I promise.”

 _“I know,”_ she says. _“Call me whenever... whenever you need me.”_

“I'd never stop calling you,” he mumbles, and his cheeks go red. He presses an embarrassed hand to his face. There's no one even there to see, not even her, it's stupid, but he can't help blushing when he says the first sappy thing that pops into his head.

 _“Oh, my Paladin, you know how to make me feel treasured.”_ Is all she answers, and that just makes his blush worsen.

“I'll... I'll call tomorrow night,” he says. He wonders if they can arrange some sort of video feed, even just to see her face, her smile, her eyes.

 _“I look forward to it,”_ she says, so sincere he feels like he's about to have a heart attack.

“I love you,” he says.

 _“As I love you. Goodnight,_ arlnath _.”_

“Goodnight.”

By some miracle, neither of them is left hanging on, the communication ending at exactly the same time. He sighs, rubbing his face, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. It's suddenly cold, his semen itches as it dries and what had been so amazing until a heartbeat ago is now just shockingly empty.

“Three more days,” he mutters to the room. The room is just silent.

With the communicator on the pillow next to him, he actually manages to get some sleep.


End file.
